


Pour A Little Salt We Were Never Here

by Sxymami0909



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt Lydia, Mentions of Allison Argent - Freeform, Mentions of Derek Hale - Freeform, Mentions of Scott McCall - Freeform, Mentions of Stiles Stilinski, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sxymami0909/pseuds/Sxymami0909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Allison’s funeral Lydia goes home to an empty house that very much resembles the emptiness she feels inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour A Little Salt We Were Never Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Request:** from pottersandponds on Tumblr. How Lydia felt somehow alone after Allison's funeral, alone at night in her bed, because she thought Stiles would be with her through it and isn't.

The sound of heels clacking heavily against wood could be heard throughout the quiet house, echoing in her ears as she moved up the stairs towards her bedroom. Her pace was slow, tired. Almost as if the weight carried by her was physically preventing her assent.  Her hand curled tightly around the railing using it to help keep her afloat as she continued pushing herself further up the steps.

Lydia paused at the top, a heavy sigh leaving her throat. It was late. She was tired and yet somehow she didn't think sleep would come that night. She walked to her bedroom, clutching a small bag in one hand. She stepped out of her heels and reached up unpinning her hair and letting it tumble down her shoulders in waves.

Lydia glanced over at her bed and her chest tightened. Allison was gone. It was real…her best friend was never coming back. She pressed a palm flat against her stomach at the wave of nausea that slammed into her. Lydia closed her eyes briefly willing the feeling to go away. Green eyes flickered open a minute later and she headed straight for her bed, not bothering to change. What did it matter what she was wearing?

She released the small clutch onto the comforter as she crawled to the top of the bed and slowly collapsed on her side, head resting against her pillow. Lydia pulled her legs up, her knees practically against her stomach.

Allison’s funeral was earlier that day. It had been cloudy and cold. Pretty much mirroring what it felt like inside of Lydia minus the feelings of pain and death stirring inside of her. If Allison was there, Lydia was pretty sure her best friend would have approved of the funeral. There were a lot of people there. Practically the whole school had shown up.

Lydia’s breathing hitched in her throat. She had stayed between Scott and Stiles beside Mr. Argent the entire time. God, Allison’s poor father, the thought filtered through her head as she remembered the pain she’d felt from him at the funeral. Death and pain had been in the air so strongly that she’d almost been sick. Apparently that was a banshee thing she was going to have to learn how to deal with.

She slid her hand under her pillow holding it close to her head as she reached for her clutch with her free hand. She pulled her cell phone out and pushed a button glancing at the empty screen. Her chest tightened. Lydia didn't know why she was looking. She knew there wouldn't be anything there. Allison was gone. Aiden was gone. Her mother was out of town. And Scott was dealing with his own grief…grief she understood too well.

Lydia felt her lip tremble and she sunk her teeth into it to make it stop. She hadn't cried since the night Allison died. She needed to be strong for Scott, for Stiles, for Mr. Argent. She needed to be level-headed and pragmatic. Plus, Lydia was afraid if she started to cry she just might never stop. Her gaze drifted to the screen of her phone again and she swallowed heavily. If she was being honest, there was one person she thought would text her. One person she had expected to leave the funeral by her side.

One person, who she hadn't spoken to since the funeral. Lydia closed her eyes again. She’d expected Stiles to stay with her and Scott. And he did for a while. But then he’d gone to the wake without them. And Scott left not long after. Lydia had told him to go…said she’d follow him there soon. But she never made it.

Instead she spent five hours sitting beside her best friend’s grave. Not talking or crying. Just sitting. Alone. It hadn't been until she felt a hesitant hand on her shoulder that she’d realized how late it had gotten. It had been practically dark around her. At the time Lydia thought Stiles might have come back for her since she didn't make it to the wake. But it hadn't been him.

Of all the people to find her alone in a cemetery and offer to drive her home, it had been Derek Hale. Lydia hadn't questioned why he was there; it wasn't like he was friends with Allison, or why he’d offered her a ride. She’d just gotten up silently and let him take her home. She imagined he texted the pack letting them know she was fine…or maybe they were too involved in their pain to care. She’d understand if they were, after all she was used to being pushed aside…forgotten.

Lydia felt the stirrings of something in her throat, a tightness that she couldn't quite get rid of. She could feel the pool of moisture gathering in her eyes and this time she couldn't stop it. There were only two people who were always there for her, never pushed her aside like she didn't matter, not since she’d found out the truth about the things that go bump in the night. Allison and Stiles. Allison was gone now. And Stiles…Lydia had no idea where he was.

The first tear fell sliding down her cheek. And then another. And before she knew it the tightness in her chest erupted giving way to a choked sob. Her body shook with the force of her tears and she curled into herself further wishing there was something— _someone_ there to hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay.

But it wouldn't be. How could it? She felt hollow, empty, like someone had carved out her heart and tossed it aside. And the one person she thought she’d be able to count on was nowhere to be found. Lydia knew Stiles was dealing with his own demons, but they were supposed to help each other. Her sobs grew louder, the emotion she’d been holding in for the past few days finally bursting free.

Her lungs burned and her stomach clenched. Lydia felt like she was drowning, the grief inside of her so overwhelming it physically hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly wishing, hoping, begging for the pain to go away, for her heart to be less broken. But she knew it wasn't possible. This was her new normal. _This_ was her life now.

It took her fifteen minutes to calm herself down. Fifteen minutes to wipe away the tears as if they’d never been there. And then it happened. Her phone buzzed and Lydia’s eyes shot open, hope stirring inside of her chest. Stiles hadn't forgotten about her. He was still there…Allison wasn't, but at least she still had Stiles.

Her hand shot out and she pressed a button on her phone opening the text message and pausing as she read the message.

_‘Thanks for letting Derek take you home…You didn't make it to the wake. I was worried. Want some company?’_

Lydia pursed her lips, a deep ache settling in her chest. It wasn't Stiles. It was Scott. She pushed down the hurt that filled her chest and slowly typed a message back.

_‘Thanks, I’m okay. It’s fine, you stay with Stiles. I’m okay.’_

Lydia sent the message and then rested her head back on the pillow, the silence around her deafening. Her phone buzzed again seconds later and the words typed out on the screen when she opened the message broke her heart all over again.

_‘Stiles isn't with me. He left with Malia hours ago.’_

A quiet sob tore from Lydia throat as the tears came again, pouring down her cheeks like some kind of torrential down pour. She had no idea why it felt like she couldn't breathe why her chest felt tight or why her heart felt like it was being ripped out and stomped on. But that was a lie too. She knew exactly why it hurt so bad.

It took her a minute to grasp the phone long enough to respond back to Scott.

_‘Sure, the window is unlocked.’_

Lydia dropped the phone to the bed and curled up again, shoulders shaking as she continued to cry. The phone vibrated again, but she didn't bother looking. She knew it was just going to be Scott telling her he was on his way. Lydia let her eyes fall shut again and shook her head. She’d lost Allison and to pour salt on the wound, now she’d lost Stiles too. Her lips quivered as moisture gathered on her cheeks. She let out a shaky breath and forced herself to pull it together.

Lydia didn't know when she’d gotten so attached to Stiles. Maybe it was the summer that Jackson left and he spent his time filling her days with comfort and laughter. Maybe it was once school started up and how he’d always walk her to class without her asking or grab her Reese’s peanut butter cups between classes. Maybe it was all the times he protected her without a second thought, no concern for his own well-being just hers. Or maybe it was the looks he gave her that somehow always made her press her lips together to keep the stupid grin off of them as her cheeks grew warm.

Lydia didn't know if it _was_ one specific thing, in fact, it was probably all of those things together that made her come to rely on Stiles. He was always there; no matter what he was her constant. And while she was in the process of unknowingly falling for him, somehow she’d missed the fact that he’d been letting go.

She’d waited too long, he’d found someone else. He no longer needed her the way she needed him…and she’d have to learn to accept that. If Lydia Martin was one thing it was resilient.  She’d hid her feelings for this long. She would give herself tonight to grieve. She’d grieve for the loss of her best friend and the loss of the boy she hadn't realized she’d loved until too late. But tomorrow she’d dry her eyes and pretend to heal because that was what she did.

Lydia would keep going because she didn't have a choice and because Allison would want her to. She’d take care of her friends, help the pack and contribute as much as she could with her banshee abilities, because that was who she was. It didn't matter that she was alone. It was just one more thing she had to get used to. And she would…she always did eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on **[Tumblr](http://reportergirl13.tumblr.com/)** and I am currently taking Teen Wolf requests through my ask box. :)


End file.
